No Regrets
by Christine M. Greenleaf
Summary: After a gag to cheer up the Joker goes wrong, Harley Quinn reflects on their history together from their very beginnings at Arkham Asylum and wonders whether she would change what happened if she could.


**No Regrets**

"Oooh, Mr. J will just plotz when he sees this!" giggled Harely Quinn to herself, as she put the finishing touches on her surprise. "He'll say 'Harley Girl, you're a little genius! You know just how to make me smile, my adorable little pumpkin pie! Now come to Daddy, my scrumptious little cupcake, because your Mr. J wants to rev his Harley's engine hard!' Oh yeah, baby," she sighed. "Oh yeah…oh, Mr. J…oh, yes, puddin', yes! Hey, stop struggling!" she shouted, brought back from her fantasy as she struck the hostage across the back of the head. "I worked really hard to make you look perfect for Mr. J, and you ain't gonna ruin all my hard work!"

"Harley!" shouted the Joker's voice from down the hall. "Harley, where are you, you worthless dame?!"

"He's coming, get ready to smile!" whispered Harley, clapping her hands in excitement. "I'm gonna turn on the lights and shout surprise, and then you're gonna smile, or it won't be funny, get me?"

"Harley! Where the hell are you, you annoying, stupid, useless, little…"

"Surprise!" shouted Harley, flicking on the lights as Joker entered the room. He let out a growl, blinded by the sudden light, but as his eyes adjusted he saw a hostage tied up in a big ribbon along one wall of the room.

"What the hell is this?" he demanded.

"Aw, Mr. J, you've been in such a grumpy mood lately that your Harley girl thought she'd plan a special surprise to cheer you up!" exclaimed Harley, beaming at him. "And here it is!"

"I repeat, what the hell is it?" he retorted.

"It's a joke, puddin'!" she replied, smiling.

He looked from him to her. "Well, it's not very funny, is it, Harley? A hostage in a bow…"

"No, no, no, Mr. J, you don't get it!" retorted Harley. "He ain't just any hostage! He's a psychiatrist!"

He looked blankly back at her expectant face. "I don't get it," he retorted.

"Aw, c'mon, Mr. J, yes, you do! He's shrink wrapped! Get it? Shrink wrapped! Because he's a shrink…"

"Don't explain the joke, you stupid girl!" he interrupted, furiously. "I've told you a thousand times! If you have to explain a joke, there is no joke! How can you be with me all these years and just not get it, Harley?! How can you actually be that dense?! Here's a joke!" he snapped, ripping out his gun. "What's the hardest part about killing a shrink? Trying to get a bullet through their thick skulls!"

He shot the hostage through the head and laughed. "Whoops, guess it wasn't that hard after all!" He stopped laughing abruptly and his smile dropped as he rounded on Harley again. "Y'see? Easy set up, straightforward gag, tell joke, give punchline, bam, laugh. Really simple, really hilarious."

"Well, just because they're different types of jokes don't mean mine's not funny," replied Harley. "I just think my gags are often a little more sophisticated, more intellectual…"

"You calling me dumb?!" he interrupted, furiously, grabbing her by the points of her hat and dragging her up to face him.

"No, puddin'!" she exclaimed, shocked. "I would never do that…"

"Then stop thinking your jokes are cleverer than mine!" he shouted. "They ain't smart, Harley, they're just not funny! Like you!"

"But I wanna learn to be funny, Mr. J," said Harley, pleadingly. "If you would just teach me…"

"You can't _learn _to be funny, you dumb blonde! You either are or you aren't! And you aren't! So stop trying to be!"

He shoved her away from him. She gazed back at him with tears in her eyes. "I just wanted to make you smile, puddin'," she murmured. "I went through a lotta effort and I thought you'd appreciate it…"

"Appreciate it?!" he repeated, angrily. "Appreciate an insult to comedy?! What do you take me for, Harley?! You take the thing I love most in this world and make a mockery of it and you expect me to be happy about it?!"

"I thought…I thought you loved me most in the world, puddin'," murmured Harley, tears running down her cheeks.

He suddenly struck her across the face. "Have I ever said that?!" he shouted, furiously. "Have I?! I can't help that you've built us up in your head to be this perfect, adoring couple, Harley, but the truth is I don't love you! I tolerate you because I can't seem to shake you, but if you died tomorrow I would be happy the burden of your existence was lifted from me! The sooner you get that through your thick skull, the better! Now clean up this mess and don't bother me again, or I'll repeat my shrink joke and put a bullet through your head, you dumb bitch!"

He stormed from the room. Harley gazed after him, heartbroken and deeply hurt, crying silent tears. He didn't mean it, she assured herself. He was just cranky because of his bad mood. He said a lot of hurtful things he didn't mean when he was in his bad moods. They always passed. And she should have known by now not to try to cheer him up. But her desire to make him happy was an uncontrollable one – nothing made her heart beat faster or her spirit soar than to see him smiling and laughing, especially at something she had done.

With a sigh, she dragged the body outside and then went to go get the mop to clean up the blood. She stared back at her reflection and her forming black eye and tried to remember how it had come to this. When had she become a submissive, pathetic little slave to him? She used to be a doctor, a psychiatrist, a good psychiatrist. When they had first met, she had been in control. She had been the powerful one. How had she lost all that? Had he really been playing a game with her right from the start? Manipulating her, just like everyone had always said? It hadn't felt that way to her. But then she was crazy.

He had instigated it, she supposed. He'd seen her briefly during her first day at Arkham Asylum, winked at her, and then sent her flowers. But that hadn't been all it took. She wasn't that easy. And although she admitted to herself that she was attracted to him right from the start, it wasn't just a physical attraction that kept her with him. It was love. She probably didn't realize when she fell in love with him exactly – she remembered most of their sessions word for word, though. Every detail of their courtship had been locked away in her mind, and when things got rough, she found that happy, secret place in her memory and revisited it. In her mind now, she wasn't mopping bloodstains off the floor, a bruised little victim of his, but strong, confident Dr. Harleen Quinzel once more, sitting across the room from her patient. If she had only known then what she knew now, would she have made the same decision?

"Mr. Joker, I'm Dr. Harleen Quinzel."

"Yeah, I know, sweets," he retorted, grinning that mischevious grin. "I sent you flowers, don't forget."

"Yes, thank you," she replied, coolly. "They were certainly unexpected. How are you feeling today?"

He shrugged. "Oh, I have good days and bad days. Some days the whole world seems like one big, gloomy raincloud, but I'm the kinda guy who does his best to turn the world's frown upside-down! Nothing in this miserable world's more beautiful to me than a nice, big smile! Wouldn't you agree, Doc? Your beautiful face always excepted, sweets."

"It's Dr. Quinzel, Mr. Joker," Harley retorted, firmly. "I don't tolerate sexual harrassment from my patients."

"Sexual harrassment?" he repeated, laughing. "What's the world coming to when a guy can't tell a dame how pretty she is? See what I mean? Miserable world. Gotta smile, though. Always gotta keep smiling, toots."

"Dr. Quinzel," she repeated. "I'm very interested in trying to help you, Mr. Joker, but I will not continue to meet with a patient who disrespects me. Please remember that. I understand that you are mentally ill, but I believe you are fully capable of controlling your words. Otherwise you couldn't make jokes."

"And I'm very interested in getting to know you, Dr. Quinzel, but I won't tolerate a doctor who ain't got a sense of humor," he retorted. "If you wanna help me, Doc, you gotta understand me. And you can't understand me if you don't have a sense of humor. I always write GOSH in the personal ads, but they never seem to be able to find me a match!" he chuckled.

"I will not tolerate offensive jokes…"

"Hey, don't blame the joke!" he interrupted. "There ain't no such thing as an offensive joke! People are the ones who take offense at stuff – a joke itself is harmless. Just a bunch of words, Doc. A bunch of meaningless, nonsensical words. You just need to learn not to be so touchy."

She opened her mouth to respond, but he sat up on the couch, facing her and smiling. "I get why you are, though. Must be hard for you, sweetheart, to get any kind of respect. Pretty little thing like you trying to succeed in a man's profession. They must all be such bastards to you. I know what people are like. You just wanna feel validated – to feel like you've succeeded in this profession you've worked really hard at. And people just won't take you seriously because you don't look the part. I know what's it like not to be taken seriously, toots. I feel for you, I really do."

"Well…that's kind, Mr. Joker," she replied, slowly. "But we are actually here to talk about you."

He waved his hand. "I know all about me. I wanna talk about you, dollface. You liked those flowers I sent?"

"Yes," she replied, calmly. "It was a nice gesture, although completely unexpected, as I say, considering we didn't exchange a single word and only saw each other for about thirty seconds."

"That's enough to know though, ain't it, toots?" he asked, grinning.

"To know what?" she asked.

He chuckled. "Nothing, sweetheart. Nothing at all. It's probably crazy."

He kept laughing, and Harley stared back at him, unsure how to react. Would it be better to encourage him in his jokes and laughter, or try to control them? She had studied his entire case file extensively (no mean feat – it was huge and filled with a million experiences, diagnoses, and psychoses) but it hadn't provided any answers. The Joker was just a never-ending series of questions, and she would have been lying if she said that didn't fascinate her.

"You got a boyfriend, sweets?" he asked suddenly.

She was surprised by the question. "Um…no," she said, focusing her eyes back down on the file.

"Why not?" he asked. "Pretty little thing like you – guys must be throwing themselves at your feet."

"I don't think it's any of your business, Mr. Joker," she retorted.

"Just curious, Doc, no need to be offended," he replied.

She felt compelled to answer him anyway. "The truth is I'm more focused on my career at the moment than on relationships," she said. "I have, as you say, worked very hard to achieve success as a psychiatrist, and at the moment I don't want any distractions from that."

He laughed again. "Lemme tell you a secret, Doc," he murmured, beckoning her. She hesitated, wondering if this was going to be one of his dangerous jokes. But she was compelled to obey him again, and leaned forward. He seized her wrist and dragged her close to him, so that his lips were brushing her ear. "The fun of life is in the distractions," he murmured. "And you gotta have a little fun sometimes, right, sweetheart?"

"Let go of me," said Harley, firmly. He obeyed with a smile and she drew back. She looked back at him sternly through her glasses. "Mr. Joker," she said. "If you have somehow developed some sort of fixation about me, perhaps it would be better if I recommend you have therapy with another doctor. I would regret it, but I also have no wish to encourage your unhealthy obsession with your psychiatrist. I would hate to encourage any man I had no interest in, and even more so one of my patients. You must understand that our relationship must always remain a strictly professional one."

He laughed hysterically. "Would you mind telling me what's so funny?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Nah. Can't let you in on the joke, sweets. Not yet."

He held up his hands, smiling. "Ok, baby, you got me. I'll stop the flirting. It's just been a long time since I got to have fun like that with such an attractive gal. Can I say just one more thing before I stop for good?"

Harley nodded. "If it will make you feel better."

"It's just this: I like you, sweets. I really do. You got brains and beauty, but you don't let one affect the other. You just make 'em both work together. That's rare in a dame, and I got a lot of respect for it. I got a lot of respect for you, and like I say, you probably don't get that from a lot of people. I understand how you want us to be just doctor and patient, but if you ever need a friend, Doc, I'd be more than happy to listen to you. If you ever need someone to talk to, y'know. I know it always helps me."

He was smiling, but he had seemed sincere. Harley felt truly touched, despite herself. She nodded and said, "Thank you very much, Mr. Joker. I'm honestly very flattered. Now if you don't mind, can we talk about your childhood?"

He grinned, lying back down on the sofa. "Hit me with the questions, Doc," he murmured.

It had started out so well. She had been so strong, so firm, so in control of the situation. But she remembered his words, and the more he talked to her about his childhood, about Batman, about whatever she asked about, the more she felt compelled to return the favor and talk about herself. He was a good listener, and he always had a fun spin on the situation, whatever it was. He always made her laugh. And it was a shocking realization to discover one day that she was thinking about him as more than just a patient. As more than just a friend. She couldn't quite admit it to herself, let alone to him, but she believed she had fallen in love with him.

He could tell something wasn't right – he was good at reading people. "You ok, Doc?" he asked her that session.

"Yeah," she murmured, staring at him. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. "Yes, yes, I'm fine, Mr. Joker."

"Got a joke to make you feel better," he said, grinning. "So a guy goes to see a shrink, and the shrink shows him the ink blots, and the guy keeps saying he sees people having sex. Same answer for the next and the next and the next. So the shrink says he thinks the guy has an unhealthy obsession with sex. And the guy replies 'Hey, you're the one showing the dirty pictures!'"

He laughed hysterically. Harley didn't, feeling the joke was a little too close to home at the moment. "Is that true then, Doc?" he asked, suddenly.

"What?" she asked.

"That thing about shrinks being obsessed with sex," he replied, grinning. "Are you, sweetheart?"

"I think that's an incredibly personal and highly offensive question," she retorted.

"You've gone all touchy again," retorted Joker. "I don't like it when you're touchy, toots. Well, not unless you're gonna be feely too!" He laughed again.

"You ain't laughing, sweets, and you normally laugh at my jokes," he continued, looking at her. "You're my biggest fan, Doc, aside from the Bat. Have I touched a nerve?"

"No!" she snapped, trying to drag her mind away from thinking about him in that way. "I just…I don't…let's just talk about something else. Why don't you tell me about Batman?"

"You've heard all about Batman," he replied, studying her. "I'd have thought you'd be bored of talking about him. I know I am!" he chuckled. "No, let's talk about you, sweets, and what's bothering you."

"There's nothing bothering me, Mr. Joker," she retorted.

"You can't lie to Daddy, kiddo," he murmured. A shudder ran through her body at the words – a shudder of delight. He had never called himself Daddy before, but it was so hot.

He must have known the effect it had on her, because his smile widened as he sat up on the sofa and held out his arms. "Come to Daddy, baby," he murmured.

"Mr. Joker…" stammered Harley, trying to remain in control of her actions, because her feelings were already running wild. "I've told you, there can never be any relationship between us other than…"

He seized her suddenly around the waist and dragged her down onto his lap. "I said come to Daddy," he growled, his hands gripping her arms and holding her in place. His mouth began to kiss along her neck, her cheek, her face, and back down again.

"Mr. Joker…we can't do this!" she breathed, reason trying to reassert itself over the rush of delight flowing through her body.

"Don't wany any distractions, huh, Doc?" he chuckled, unbuttoning her blouse. "Ok, baby. You tell me to stop and I'll stop. I ain't the kinda guy who forces himself on a gal if she don't want him."

He drew away from her, and cupped her chin in his hand. "It's your decision, Harley," he murmured. "You tell me what you wanna do. Do you wanna continue on being a shrink, a strong, respectable, independent woman with no distractions in her life, walking the straight and narrow path from the cradle to the grave? Or do you wanna be mine? Mine, so that you'll never have to be strong or respectable or independent ever again, because those things don't matter anymore. Nothing matters anymore except what I want. It's the kinda guy I am, sweets, I like being obeyed, and I think you're gonna like being obedient. If you want us to be together, you have to accept that. You have to sacrifice things for me, but in return you'll have fun. So much fun, you can't even begin to imagine it, baby. It'll be unlike anything you've ever known. Do you want us to be together, Harley? If you do, you say yes. But it's your choice."

Harley stared at him, at his beautiful, intense eyes. She was in love with him. There was no denying that now. And she knew she'd regret it for the rest of her life if she didn't say yes, if she didn't take this chance. Her future could be full of infinite possibilities. Happiness, joy, pain and suffering too, probably. But if she didn't, her future would be exactly the same as her past. And what was the point of life without growth, without change, without experience? If she denied this love, she'd regret it forever. That was the truth.

"Yes," she whispered. And she gently brought her mouth to his and kissed him.

"Harley," said the voice, startling her back to the present. She looked up to see Joker standing in the doorway. "You done cleaning?"

"Yeah, Mr. J," she replied, putting away the mop.

"Good. Get your worthless ass in the kitchen and make dinner. I'm hungry."

She nodded, heading past him. He caught her arm. "That joke today, kid…it was mediocre at best. I give it a four."

"A four outta what?" asked Harley.

"Just a four," he retorted. "Just be grateful I called it mediocre, ok?"

"Ok, puddin'," she breathed, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him tenderly.

She had made her choice, and she didn't have any regrets. She didn't reget it now, even though Mr. J could sometimes be a little rough and demanding. She never could have said no. She knew that, deep down. She knew it by the way she felt when she kissed him, and how happy she was when he smiled, and the way her heart skipped a beat at his laugh, even after all this time. People said her love wasn't good for her. But it could never be bad. It had been her decision. And she had never regretted it.

**The End**


End file.
